Le Chat Noir
by youkai chick supreme
Summary: Oh life, how can you crush my soul so hard without even trying?


A/n: Oh God, I have no idea where I'm going with this, but bear with me, it makes some interesting points…

Disclaimer: I do not own Fruits Baskets or it characters, so there!

* * *

When a child is born, it is a miraculous event. The exhausted mother beaming at the tiny new life; the father, grinning from ear to ear, clicking picture after picture of the new addition to the family; they're so proud. They are a complete family now. They're instantly in love with the tiny bundle of flesh. A little portion of mother, a little portion of father, coming together to make something similar yet new. They love their baby. 

At least, they should love their baby.

When I was born, she cried. All she could do was cry, clutching a little boy turned kitten, sobbing. Asking the gods why they cursed her with this cursed child. Crying to the gods, asking them to make it go away, asking them to make me go away… Her only son.

He just stared. He was disgusted. He was infuriated. He was hurt, so in turn, he hurt me. He hurt me. Worthless, cursed me. As my mother drifted farther and farther away, sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss, my father just stood back and watched. Watched as his whole family imploded, all because of one cursed little child.

* * *

It was my fault. I was lying to myself all those years ago when I vehemently denied the fact that I had a hand in killing my mother. It _was_ my fault. Sure, I didn't actually slit her throat, I wasn't the one holding the knife. But I was the one who came into the world, cursed, and tore my parents apart. It was my fault. I drove her to doing it. 

Father, can I ever call him that now? After ruining his whole life, can I add insult to injury and actually call him father? He sired me, physically, but not emotionally. Never emotionally. He never so much as looked my way, except to rub it in my face that I was different. Oh God, different? Different! A new hairstyle is different, trying sushi for the first time is different; housing the immortal spirit of an ever furious cat is not different! It's pain, it's torture, it's death. Walking death.

Oh father, who was never really my father, did I hurt you? Did I make you cry? Did I make you cry even half of the times you made me cry? Made her cry? Maybe, if you were stronger! Maybe if you were there to help her! Maybe she would still be here… Maybe she would love me. Why couldn't she love me? I loved her! So why, why couldn't she love me, even a little?

Sure, she said the words "I love you." Countless times she'd see the distant look in my eyes, she must have seen it, and she'd grab my right hand, never the left, and tell me she loved me. But it was all a lie. She was afraid of me. She was afraid of what I could become. Of what I really was… My own mother feared me, hated me, regretted me. She wished I was never born. She never actually said the words, but the look on her face said it as clear as any declaration could, she was disgusted with me.

* * *

Did they think I asked to be this way? Did they think I wanted to be the vessel for the ever present, ever angry neko spirit? I just wanted my mother to hold me, and love me, and not be afraid of me. I wanted her to love me so badly. I wanted to feel her arms wrap me up tight and safe, crushing me into her warmth. Protecting my fragile little body from father's calloused, crushing hands… If anyone crushed me, I wanted it to be her. At least when she crushed me there were no visible, physical, wounds. 

At least when she crushed me I felt something besides pain. I felt all the love she had for her son that wasn't me. That other child that could have been me, but wasn't. When he crushed me all I felt was the searing pain of hatred. My father hated everything about me; he hated me in every single sense of the word. At least mother tried to love me at times. At least she pretended to care. At least she tried to hide the look of disappointment in her eyes when she saw me. Gods, at least she tried.

Unless of course, I was in my _other_ form. Then I was untouchable. Even more hideous, even more detestable than normal, I was truly a monster. When I lost control over my own flesh and blood and changed, then she couldn't even attempt to try to disguise her disgust. It was written on her face as plain as day, "You repulse me."

But I don't really blame her, I can't. I disgust myself. When I'd lose control, when I'd lose those precious beads, I'd almost wish for someone to just come and kill me. Yes, suicidal thoughts at age 6, what can I say? I was advanced.

When I'd lose my humanoid form, I can't even bring myself to call myself a true human, I'd feel such strong feelings of hate. Hate for the neko spirit for possessing me. Hate for my parents for having me and hating me. Hate for the doctor for not simply snapping my neck at birth… But most of all, hate for the damn rat bastard nezumi spirit. I hated him beyond words for doing this to me. I hated him for starting all of this. I hated him for pushing me out of my family. I hated him for making me hate him! I hated him for making me hate myself…

* * *

The only person I think I actually loved in the entire Sohma clan was my shishou, Kazuma. My poor shishou, how he suffers for taking me in. All I do is make people suffer. An existence built on other people's sacrifices, on others' lives, it's true. People hurt him because of me, and I hurt him too. I don't mean to, I never meant to hurt anyone, but I do. All I do is hurt anyone who comes near me. Trampling on everything until there's nothing left… 

An existence of pain, suffering, hurting; an existence that isn't really existing. Is this to be my life? What life? What kind of life is that? It's not a life at all. I can't be around these people, these people I've come to care for, because in the end I will only hurt them. All I do is hurt. I hurt everyone, just as I've been hurt.

* * *

Sometimes I wish I was dead. Just as I wish that I'd never been born, I also wish that I would just die. I can't say that I've never thought of suicide; I have, numerous times. But I've never been one to back away from a challenge. I mean, how many times have I fought that damn rat? One thousand, two? I've never been one to give up and take the easy way out, I guess that's what keeps me alive. That and spite, spite for all who wish me dead. I won't give up no matter how difficult things get here, and they are. 

Sometimes I feel as if I am suffocating. I feel as if I'm drowning in tepid water, someone holding me down, waiting as the water clogs my throat, fills my lungs, and kills me slowly. I know many would like that solution. Half of me likes this solution too.

But I know I can't die yet. Not only would it kill shishou inside, I know she would hurt too. Ah, what can I say about her… She's an idiot.

Put simply she is a complete and total baka. But she is the kindest person I've ever met. She can look past my hideousness and see the brokenness inside of me. And she stays by my side despite that. She loves with all her heart, and her heart is huge. She can even find a little love for a reject like me. She is truly amazing. And she doesn't even realize it, which makes her love all the more pure.

Honda Tohru was the first person to ever really see me. She was the first person to ever touch me in my other form. Yes she was scared, and yes she wanted to run away from me so badly, but she stayed. She stayed because she knew if she left I would have died. She's incredible.

And she's the main reason I refuse to go. She risked everything for me, she goes against all odds to be my friend, and I will not be the one to walk away from this relationship. When everything breaks apart, as it is bound to happen, it will not be because of me! In the past I thought if I could push her away first it wouldn't hurt as much, but I was wrong. Pushing her away only made her stick with me that much more, and I will never hurt her again. I won't leave her.

I love her too much to ever consciously leave. If… if only there was a way that she could love me. Ha, that's hilarious. Her loving me is impossible. I find her friendship amazing enough, I can't push it, and risk pushing her, and ask for true love in addition to friendship. I could never be that incredibly lucky. The cat is unluckiest of all, she could never love me.

She will never love me…

* * *

Owari.


End file.
